


A Little Sacrifice for the Greater Good

by StarkRogers



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pain, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 19:11:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19836709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers/pseuds/StarkRogers
Summary: A prompt from the Good Omens Kinkmeme: [Link to fill on Kinkmeme]"tl;dr: Heaven is consecrated ground. And Crowley-as-Aziraphale just straight up walked through that shit without allowing himself to show a single flinch of pain.Just...I just... gahh. Shit. Fic pls"





	A Little Sacrifice for the Greater Good

He should have thought of it beforehand.

He’d prepared for everything else; and by “prepared”, he meant he’d done absolutely nothing. They’d chosen their faces wisely and now all they could do was hope it would work.

And it had; neither Heaven nor Hell suspected anything as they dragged what looked like Aziraphale upstairs and Crowley downstairs.

He’d been conscious when they’d dragged him in, and if the air itself felt hot he simply assumed it was because they were closer to the Sun (as illogical as that was – Heaven was a different plane of existence, it was no closer or further from the Sun than it was from Earth – or anything else for that matter). 

But as they set his feet down on the blank white floor he realized it wasn’t just the air – every surface hurt. Burned. He inhaled sharply behind the gag and tried not to let the pain show. There was a chair ahead of him; he just had to make it to the chair, surely that wouldn’t burn, but it wasn’t a strong hope. The very air felt like it was burning his skin. 

He wasn’t wrong: as the angels forced him down into the chair the entire backside of his body felt like it was on fire, from his thighs to his back. Hopefully they’d take the trembling for fear. His forearms became arcs of pain as his wrists were tied to the armrests, but that seemed to be the last of it. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind as much as possible and mitigated some of it by sitting upright as straight as possible, which could only help his subterfuge anyway.

“So glad you could join us!” Gabriel came up behind him, clapped him on the shoulder, and Crowley grimaced. He tried to turn it into a smile as the archangel passed but he was fairly certain he failed. 

He forced himself through small talk as he fought the feeling that he was going to burst into flame at any moment. Then, finally thank god, a distraction in the form of a demon – what was his name? Crowley could never remember – who dumped hellfire into the ring of stones before them, and Crowley almost felt relief. This was almost over, as long as it worked.

His attention was pulled back by Gabriel, and then suddenly he’d been allowed to get to his feet, and he had to remember to pretend to be reluctant and frightened, even though the wind coming off the pillar of fire was soothingly cool, literally tempting him to step into it. Finally, once he felt he’d milked the moment enough, he stepped into the fire. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and cracking his neck a bit as all the heat leached away from his body. It was like dropping into a pool of cool water on a hot summer’s day. He opened his eyes again, and simply for dramatic effect, breathed fire at the angels before him (alright, it wasn’t entirely for dramatic effect, if he’d say, accidentally caught one of them on fire, particularly Gabriel, he’d have had no hard feelings about it at all). He grinned in the hellfire as the angels tried to figure out what he was.

“I think perhaps I’ll be going now,” he said, remembering at the last moment to be as polite as Aziraphale would’ve been about it. None of the angels replied to him – they were too busy arguing amongst themselves. “Well, then,” he said, and miracled himself back to Earth, leaving the angels to figure out whatever it was they were going to do.

He decided it wasn’t worth telling Aziraphale about, once they’d switched back. He hadn’t caught on fire, after all.


End file.
